


for the best

by kveikur (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Imagine your OTP, M/M, Marriage, Sad sad sad, pretend that earl didn't disappear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:42:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kveikur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this <a href="http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/page/5">prompt.</a></p>
<p>(sixth one down, sorry.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the best

**Author's Note:**

> VERY IMPORTANT 
> 
> okay i stand by the firm belief that this pairing was canon in the past. however, when cecil was reeducated (i forgot if he mentioned that or not; however that is canon as well) he forgot all memories of he and earl's relationship. well, romantic relationship-i know it was mentioned that they were childhood friends. 
> 
> alright, enjoy~

Earl had stopped listening to the radio a while ago-he couldn't quite bear Cecil's gushing over Carlos any longer. Especially when it came to the scientist's hair-Earl remembered when Cecil talked about _his_ hair like that, running his his long fingers through the red locks. Earl would lean into the touch like a cat and Cecil would curl up in his lap-

Yes, he had stopped listening to the radio. As a result, he was quite clueless as to the current status of Carlos and Cecil's strange and seemingly one-sided relationship. Though curiousity almost got the better of him on some occasions, Earl had decided long ago that he like it that way. 

So when Cecil called him, his mind raced with possibilities. Had he broken up with Carlos the Scientist? Did he, perhaps, want Earl back? 

Dangerous, selfish thoughts were they; however Earl found it hard to push them to the back of his mind at the sound of Cecil's musical voice in his ears. 

"Early Bird! You didn't forget about me, did you?" 

"However could I, Cecil?" Earl murmured, and if Cecil had payed more attention to the simple phrase he might've heard the melancholy nostalgia hidden in Earl's tone. 

"Fantastic! Anyway, I've got something completely, totally secret and _important_ to share with you tonight. Meet me for dinner?" 

Earl sighed a tired sigh-though of course those thoughts that were not pushed to the back of his mind were lurking in the forefront, and maybe, _maybe_ his belly was fluttering at the prospect of dinner with his former best friend, former _something more_ -

"Big Rico's?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could manage. 

"Nonononononono," Cecil spilled them all out, disapproving, and clicked his tongue. "I've made reservations at Tourniquet, in a few.. Well whenever. It's not as if time really matters with this sort of thing." Cecil promptly hung up, leaving Earl not only hoping but also wondering how on earth he got reservations to one of the nicest restaurants in Night Vale. 

The hope was more prominent, however, and it showed as he showered and dressed in jeans and a hoodie instead of usual scoutmaster uniform. (It _was_ a special occasion, after all.) What he was hoping for, he was unsure, but it was there nonetheless. 

A few went by quickly, and soon the redhead found himself walking towards Tourniquet, hands shoved in his pockets and stomach flipping around like a fish out of water. It wasn't far from his apartment-a few metres, really-Earl was standing outside, watching the angels flit about inside through the windows. 

Normally it was something else that was on waiter duty, but old woman Josie had given them a week off to pursue their own careers, and it seemed that most of them rather enjoyed waiting tables. 

Earl pulled on the door, stomach still feeling like a beehive, and spotted Cecil almost immediately. He was sitting in the corner booth, tattoos acting up like absolute _crazy_ -he was nervous. Earl's brain told him this was a good thing, a very good thing indeed, and the scoutmaster allowed himself to get excited for the moment. 

"Hi," he greeted politely as he slid into the booth. Cecil wrung his hands- _excited too, then,_ and leaned over the table to stare into Earl's eyes. 

"Earl Harlan, it's great to see you," he purrs in that voice of his, and Earl has to close his eyes for a moment because of the waves of nostalgia and sadness and longing that crash into him. 

Cecil's pulled away by the time that he's opened them again, and he realises he'd better act normal until Cecil gets around to whatever it is he wanted to tell the redhead. 

Small talk is agonising, however, and soon Earl finds himself getting antsy. Luckily Cecil's attention span is that of a five year old on the best of days, and Earl can tell he's getting ready to explode with news. 

He crosses his fingers and his tongue and his toes when Cecil pulls out a ring. 

He's almost broken when Cecil speaks. 

"I'm gonna, ask Carlos to _marry me!_ " Cecil squeaks, then drops the ring in his lap and claps his hands over his mouth. Earl nods accordingly, stomach feeling more like a hornet's nest at this point. 

"That's, wonderful," he mutters, but Cecil pays him no mind. Barely notices his extremely visible distress. 

"You must tell _no one!_ Don't even murmur to yourself about it, the secret old woman that lives in your home-"

"I won't say a word," Earl moves to leave, unsure of his ability to keep bile in any longer and simply wanting to escape. Cecil follows his motions and gives him a hug, breathing into his shoulder. 

"I knew I could trust you, Early Bird. Love you," Cecil speaks into Earl's hoodie, muffled. 

He feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes but he figures it's probably for the best that Cecil didn't bring him to Tourniquet to confess his undying (romantic) love for the redhead. 

Really, who would choose the ginger, obessive-compulsive man that constantly wears a scout uniform over the talented, hot scientist with a myriad of lab coats that he wraps himself in? 

Not Cecil, apparently. But he figures it's probably for the best.


End file.
